


Prelude to Adventure

by Elwyne



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 14:22:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4395227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elwyne/pseuds/Elwyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and his granddaughter leave their world behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prelude to Adventure

The old man and the adolescent girl stood alone on the shimmering hillside. The capsule had vanished into the sun-burnished sky; the other mourners had gone, but still he could not tear his eyes away. Beside him the youngster sniffled. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and drew her close.

"Brave heart, child," he murmured. 

Susan didn't answer. Her head rested heavily above his hearts.

She was all that was left now. All his family. In spite of the longevity of their race, each of them had conspired to leave him behind. And now Susan too was bereft, her last parent consigned to ash. He hugged her again, awkwardly, for he was not an expressive man.

 

The old house rang with emptiness. His father's house, once filled with life, the stentorian commands of its patriarch, the gentle remonstrances of his wife, the running footsteps of their children - and later, grandchildren, the Doctor's own daughter and her family, his brother's sons. All gone now. His last grandchild sat at the kitchen table, her face a picture of desolation. He rummaged in the cupboards for her, but finding nothing within his ability to prepare, he went out to his workshop to retrieve the replicator.

Susan perked up slightly as he heaved the machine onto the counter. She shared his passion for mystery and tinkering; she had helped him repair all manner of things amidst the happy chaos of that little room. Now, as he connected the power and adjusted the dials, a little of her usual animation returned.

"What can I get for you, my dear?" he asked. "A nice hot bowl of soup? A cup of tea?"

"Chocolate pudding," she answered with conviction. The Doctor hid a smile as he twisted and turned the dials.

"Very well, you shall have it. I may even join you." A moment later, two quivering bowls appeared in the dispenser. He set them on the table with a flourish and went back for a pair of spoons. A faint smile flickered on his granddaughter's face as she plunged her spoon into the gelatinous mass. He let out the breath he had been holding. Perhaps they would be all right after all.

"I have a proposition for you, my dear."

Susan looked up, her expression a mix of anticipation and alarm.

"I believe you know I have been working on a project lately."

Her face flushed bright pink and she looked down into her bowl. "I know I shouldn't have followed you, Grandfather."

"Did you learn anything from your disobedience?"

Tentative, she nodded. "You made that old time ship fly."

"I did indeed." He tugged proudly at his lapels. "Would you perhaps care to take a ride?"

Susan looked up, her mouth an O of surprise. "Oh, yes, Grandfather, oh yes please!"

He adjusted his expression to a stern frown. "You are aware of course, it is not strictly speaking permitted."

"Yes, Grandfather," she said, demure as a kitten.

"Very well then. We'll go tonight."

She lit up again, and resuming her spoon plunged back into her chocolate pudding. The Doctor pushed his own bowl toward her.

"Never did like the stuff," he grumbled, and her laugh made his hearts sing.

 

That night they closed up the old house for good.

The Doctor carried a battered leather duffel; Susan dragged a single suitcase. Poorly concealed under her arm she carried a much-loved and long-since-outgrown doll, its yarn hair worn to frizz and its painted smile faded. The Doctor felt a pang deep in his chest: his own wife had given that doll to their daughter so many years ago. He was grateful Susan had decided to bring it.

At the junkyard gate the Doctor fiddled open the lock and helped Susan slip quickly through. A security scanner blinked lazily overhead as they melted into the shadows. Picking up his granddaughter's suitcase he hurried between the towering rows of broken-down time and space machines. Susan followed, distracted by the wonders all around. At last he reached the machine of his choosing: an ancient Type 40 with questionable navigation and a tendency to smoke. With a glance over his shoulder at the nearest security tower, he slipped a key into the door and hurried his granddaughter inside.

"Oh, Grandfather," she sighed. "It's wonderful!"

The Doctor shut the door and looked around with pride. "Glorious old thing, isn't she?"

"You've done such marvelous work!" She hurried to the console and leaned over the controls with barely contained exhilaration. "May I choose?"

"Of course, my dear," he smiled. "Anywhere you like." 

She tapped in coordinates with nimble fingers and pulled the lever. The machine began to hum, and then to rumble: the center column pumped up and down, faster and faster, and in another breathless moment they were away. In the viewscreen Gallifrey faded: the empty house, the gleaming red hills, the cities, all now were part of their past.

"All of time and space," he said, half to himself. "Anything that ever happened or ever will. Where do you want to start?"


End file.
